Nightmare
by h4lfpr1nce
Summary: Kurt is in the middle of a very odd dream.


**I am sorta having wirter's block with my longer story- the next chapter just isn't coming out right- but I got this awesome idea for a seprate oneshot kinda thing. It doesn't really go with my story, but it doesn't not go either. It's just... there, i guess.**

**Anyway, enjoy and please _please _PLEASE _PLEASE PLEASE _review this. And my other story, for that matter. Chapter 12 is jealous of the other chapters because they have comments and it doesn't.**

**OH! I almost forgot:**

**DISCLAIMER: I regrettably do not own Glee. More regrettably, I do not own Kurt Hummel or Chris Colfer. If anyone would like to offer ownership of either one to me, I would gladly accept.**

I am standing waist-deep in water, and apparently have been long enough for my skin to prune like it did during the "Umbrella"/"Singing in the Rain" mash-up. I groan inwardly- no one looks good prune-y, not even me. Not to mention how much work I had to do on my skin to get it back to its usual smooth satiny softness after that song that I would probably have to do again. It was fun though, I have to admit. I didn't express it when Mr. Schue handed the song to us because I dreaded sounding like Rachel Berry at any point in time, but "Singing in the Rain" is actually a favorite of mine. I just sat there looking disappointed like all the other glee club members, confident that Mr. Schue would make us do it anyway. I helped design the costumes we wore for the number too.

I am brought back to the present, and I take in my surroundings. I am standing in the middle of a fast-moving river with high banks on either side, and the water is slightly muddy as though it has rained recently. Ugh, now my clothes will be mud-stained as well as sopping wet. However, despite the river's appearance, the sky is bright, clear, and cloudless. Too bright, in fact. It looks almost white, like those horrible, hot days in the middle of summer that always mess up my perfect look by making me sweat. The trees on the riverbank are a vibrant green against it.

In the trees, birds are singing loudly. On my left are bright, colorful birds all singing different tunes and trying to out-sing each other, creating a somehow lovely discord that fit together perfectly. On my right are brown, drab birds that all look exactly alike. They are all singing in harmony with each other, creating a beautiful melody. I am honestly not sure which one is more beautiful, but I am distracted from deciding by a cold feeling on my stomach.

I look down and am horrified. The water is rising! I am startled by my outfit, which consists of a hideous blue and red blazer, a purple shirt, bright yellow skinny jeans, and the sparkly, ten-inch heels I wore when we did Lady Gaga. I would be horrified and have a crisis because of the fact that I am breaking about every fashion rule I know, but I am currently having a crisis over the slightly more immediate problem posed by the fact that I am standing over my waist deep in muddy water in the middle of a river with steep banks on each side and the water is rising.

I move to swim to one side or the other, but the fast current sweeps my feet out from under me. I do not wash downstream; I feel a strong, painful yank on each wrist instead. I look up at them- when did my arms get above my head?- and see they are held by ropes. A rope lashes around each wrist, one from the left bank and one from the right. My wrists are being pulled in opposite directions from one another.

I look closely at the ropes, and see they are woven from song lyrics. The one on my left is "Defying Gravity" and the other is "Don't Cry for Me Argentina." They are both very good songs from very good musicals, and in general I approve of both of them. I do not particularly appreciate either of them binding my wrists, however, excepting the fact that they prevented me from being swept away by the current.

I follow the left rope up to the bank, wondering who is holding it, and am startled by unknown but familiar faces. There is a slightly large but friendly-looking black girl, three cheerleaders- two blondes an a brunette, a blond guy (obviously dyed) with his arm around one of them, a boy in a wheelchair holding hands with another, and a muscled and handsome boy with a mohawk standing close to the third. There is an Asian boy with very nice abs, an Asian girl next to him with blue streaks in her hair who is dressed in all black, a cute jock with brown hair and eyes, an overbearing-looking Jewish girl, a balding man with light green eyes holding onto a woman in a wedding dress, a curly-haired teacher, and a blonde, imperious cheerleading coach in a tracksuit. They all hold the rope in one hand, looking happy to see me, and I get a warm sense of belonging inside when I look at them.

The ropes start to shift me towards them, but stop when I see who is behind them. In front of horrendous red lockers that seem to have appeared out of nowhere, are two menacing figures. Both are overweight jocks. One, a black boy, yanks on the rope in a threatening manner and punches a fist into the opposite hand. The one who fills me with true terror and makes me shake, though, is the other who has the rope tied around his waist. He smirks at me, making kissy faces as well as other inappropriate gestures, and I turn away from his gaze in fear, looking the other direction.

On the right bank holding the other rope are a group of boys in blazers like the one I am wearing totally against my will. All of them are lit up in joy and song, and they appear welcoming. In the middle stands a handsome boy with hazel eyes who has an outline of wings on his back and a halo above his head. The sight of him makes my heart melt and my face flush.

The ropes begin shifting me that way when suddenly all the faces go blank. They have no eyes or noses or mouths; they all look exactly the same including the boy in the middle. His halo and wings are gone and I can't tell him apart from the others anymore. They look like an army, a front that I cannot squeeze myself through. The faces flicker back to normal, and then flicker away again. They keep flickering, so fast that I can't even see which one is there now. The ropes have stopped with me exactly in the middle.

The water has risen halfway up my chest as I was taking each side in. I look down in panic, and realize I have to choose a side, but I can't. I am still stuck in the middle. Each side is pulling viciously and I feel as though my arms are going to get ripped out of their sockets.

Suddenly, the banks on each side rise dramatically and take me with them. I am now hovering above the river, which looks fast and dangerous far below. My arms are pulled straight out to each side and the pain is excruciating. I am being ripped in half. I still can't choose a side; they each both call to me and frighten me at the same time. I feel like I want both sides to let go of the ropes, but the water looks like cement a long way under me and I know that it would feel like it too if I were to fall from this height. The current seems to be getting ever stronger too.

I am stuck and I feel like I am about to die from all the pulling. I cannot go right or left and I most certainly cannot go down. I look up almost hopefully, but the white sky is now above the bars of a large metal cage, blocking me from escape like I am a confined bird.

I have no hope in any direction, and the yanking is getting worse and worse. I am splitting apart at the seams. I cannot do anything but sit hopelessly as the ripping starts.

It begins in my chest- my heart splits into two pieces with ragged edges, and it hurts so, so much and no one seems to notice and stop pulling and the flesh surrounding my broken heart is pulling in opposite directions and the pain is so intense that tears run down my face and I black out.

* * *

I hold back a scream and sit bolt upright in- where am I? I look around the dark room that I currently occupy, recognizing it after a few moments. It is my dorm room at Dalton Academy.

As knowledge of whom and where I am floods back to me, I try to stop hyperventilating and to quench the desire to scream before I actually do. It has happened before; the dream I just had is a recurring nightmare. The first time I had it, three days after coming here, I screamed before I could stop myself. It sent all the boys within a three-room radius of my own into it to check on me.

I tried to pass my nightmare off as an after-effect of bullying, saying Dave Karofsky was in it. Some of those boys are Warblers, and I never want Blaine to know that he is in my nightmares. I particularly never want him to find out that he is one of the scariest things in them. He is the person I'm in love with, after all.

Parvarotti tweets happily in his cage on my bookshelf. I am tempted to let him out after a cage suspiciously like his appeared in my nightmare, but with my luck with pets he would get lost somewhere in the room and I wouldn't be able to find him. I had a similar experience with a hamster once when I was seven. I rub my wrists because they almost feel like they hurt and then clutch my chest. It definately hurts, though whether it's from my dream or unrequited love for Blaine is debateable.

The pain subsides as though it never existed and I unravel myself from my mound of blankets to go look in the bathroom mirror. I know I am not wearing anything resembling yellow skinny jeans or I would be decidedly less comfortable than I am now, but sometimes I just have to make sure. Confident that I am not wearing them or any of the other horrible things I had on in my dream, I return to my bed and lull myself back to sleep by imagining Blaine's arms wrapped around me.


End file.
